Far from Easy
by ManwathielCaladwen
Summary: Long after their breakup, Harry and Draco are finding out the hard way that where there is love, there is pain. And that sometimes, what causes the most pain is pretending that moving on is easy. Rated M for language and moderate slash. Don't like, please don't read. For everyone else, enjoy and don't forget to review!
1. Chapter 1: Draco

**Author's Note:** 'Ello lovelies, I had the idea for this story bouncing around for a while, and could never really write it until the other night, when I just started writing, and this is what appeared. It was most definitely influenced by the song "Easy" by Rascal Flatts ft. Natasha Bedingfield. You should definitely check it out. Also, this isn't beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. Let me know if you find any.

**Disclaimer:** As always, Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling—I'm just having some fun with a few original characters of my own.

(XXXXX)

_The truth is  
That I miss lyin' in those arms of his  
But I don't ever let it show  
I laugh and I act like  
I'm having the time of my life  
as far as he knows_

_It's easy goin' out on a Friday night_  
_Easy, everytime I see him out_  
_I can smile, live it up_  
_The way a single girl does_  
_But, what he, what he don't know_  
_is how hard it is to make it look so_  
_Easy_

**~from "Easy" by Rascal Flatts ft. Natasha Bedingfield **

**Chapter 1: Draco**

Throwing back his head, Draco downed another shot a fire whiskey. Ignoring the chatter from his friends around him, his eyes settled on a large group across the room. His steely gaze sought out one man in particular—the jet black hair as unruly as ever, Harry's eyes were closed as he lost himself in the rhythmic beat of the music, and the body of the stranger grinding up against him.

Draco's whole body tensed as anger towards the nameless man coursed through his veins. In his mind, Draco knew this anger was unjustified—Harry wasn't his anymore, and hadn't been for a while now, and whatever feelings he still had for Harry were clearly not reciprocated. Harry seemed to be getting along just fine without him, as evident in the way he was running his hands over his unknown dance partner.

Draco wished he had another glass of alcohol. It wasn't fair; how could he still be so hung up on Harry while Harry had successfully moved on? How could it be so easy for Harry but so bloody difficult for him?

Sensing her friend's inner turmoil, and knowing instinctively where Draco's hate-filled stare was aimed, Pansy turned and focused her attention on Draco, hoping to distract him, at least momentarily.

"Draco, darling, why don't we dance? Maybe you'll attract some fit, attractive bloke." In her mind, she added _who will make you forget all about Potter_, but not being a total idiot, she didn't vocalize this thought, although she didn't need to—Draco knew exactly what she was thinking which only added to his already foul mood.

Draco cast Pansy an exasperated glance, effectively giving an answer to what he felt was a ridiculous suggestion. Instead, Draco stood up and shouldered he was past Blaise and his new muse, both of whom were too distracted to notice anything. Draco made his way over to the bar, people moving out of his way as he went, all of them sensing he was a man not to be messed with. Arriving at his destination, Draco took a seat at the far end, facing away from the dance floor, though this did nothing to help him forget that someone was currently kissing and licking their way up a neck that used to be, and still should be, his. Just as Draco was starting to get impatient for his drink, the bartender appeared, placing a double in front of Draco.

"This one's on the house, mate." The bartender smirked a little, as Draco raised an eyebrow, "you look like you could use it." With that, the bartender was gone, leaving Draco essentially alone as those around him had picked up the vibes he was giving off, and promptly left the general area—which suited Draco just fine. He was halfway through his drink when he registered someone sliding onto the stool next to him.

"Draco."

"Granger." Draco barely made any movement to acknowledge Hermione's presence, and when she didn't attempt to engage him in further conversation, he asked, "Is there something I can do for you?"

Hermione was unfazed by Draco's snarky question, having become used to his moods. Instead she turned on her stool to face him directly. "Are you all right Draco?" she asked bluntly, seeing no reason to beat around the bush.

Taking another sip of his drink, Draco eyed her suspiciously. "I'm fine, but if you don't mind me asking, why the hell do you care?"

Hermione didn't answer, but the intensity of her gaze had Draco shifting uncomfortably. As the silence continued between them, Draco turned so that he was facing Hermione directly so he could tell her to go away, but in the process caught sight of Harry looking in their direction. Realization dawned on Draco as he looked back to Hermione.

"Potter put you up to this, didn't he? Did he want to make sure I'm okay so he can keep his bloody savior complex in check; if I said I wasn't okay was he going to swoop in and save the day?" Draco shook his head angrily, _like hell he would_, he thought to himself before continuing "You can tell him that I'm fine, damn it, I've never been better. And the next time any of you are curious as to my wellbeing, don't bother asking because it sure as hell isn't any of your concern."

Draco turned away from her, aware enough to realize that he was dangerously close to losing it completely. Draco gripped his glass tighter, the pounding of blood in his ears so loud that he almost missed what Hermione said next.

"He misses you."

Draco snorted, and took a sip of his drink. _Honestly, did Granger really expect him to believe that a man who currently had his tongue down another man's throat missed him?_

Hermione, knowing exactly what Draco was thinking, pressed on. "Why don't you talk to him?"

The sheer absurdity of the question had Draco turning to face her once more. "What purpose would that serve exactly? Don't forget Granger, he _left_ me, not the other way around." Draco paused, waiting for Hermione to say something, and when she didn't, he continued, his voice full of self-deprivation, hurt, and anger "If he really misses me, and that's a big if, it's his own damn fault. So if he happens to ask you how I am, tell him to stay the hell away from me because I am fine. Now run on back to the rest of the Golden Trio before they think I've hexed you."

They lapsed back into silence, and when Hermione got up to leave, Draco could see in her face that she wasn't fooled by anything he had said—she knew he wasn't fine, far from it, and concern was clear in her face, but why she cared so much was beyond Draco.

_Unless she was telling the truth_, a small voice in the back of Draco's mind said with just the smallest glimmer of hope. Looking over his shoulder, Draco scanned the room, looking for Harry, and finding him sitting the lap of the unknown man, he turned back to his drink, calling himself every kind of idiot for allowing that brief moment of hope to cross his mind.

(XXXXX)

Draco was just finishing up his drink when he was interrupted again, this time by Pansy, who was being followed by an undeniably gorgeous man Draco didn't recognize. But after knowing Pansy for as long as he could remember, Draco didn't need to know this man was following her—Pansy's intentions were clear.

"Draco, darling, I wanted to introduce you to someone." Pansy's voice cut through the string of curses going through Draco's mind for letting Pansy talk him into going out with her.

Shooting Pansy another one of his deadly looks, Draco was all set to ignore her, but Pansy wasn't going to take it. Reaching out, she grabbed Draco's shoulder, and spun the stool around so that he was facing her directly. She leaned in so that her face was inches from Draco's and spoke, her voice sickeningly sweet, but underlined with a razor sharp tone warning Draco not to cross her this time.

"I've had enough of you being miserable Draco. Now, I had to call in a few favours to arrange this tonight, so you will not ruin it by being rude, and unsociable. Got it—good."

Before Draco could do or saying anything, Pansy had turned around, an impish smiled plastered in place. Draco sighed and stood up to follow Pansy the few feet to where the mystery man stood, looking somewhat unsure of himself.

"Haiden, this is my friend Draco. Draco, this is Haiden—his sister and I work together." And with basic introductions done, Pansy turned a walked away, leaving the two men standing there awkwardly, and wondering what they got themselves into.

Turning to face Draco, Haiden smiled. "How long have been friends with her?"

"Far too long" was Draco's dry response, and not knowing what else to say, he added, "You want a drink?"

"Sure" and so the two men made their way back to the bar and the place Draco had occupied only moments before.

(XXXXX)

Half an hour later, Draco had to hand it to Pansy. Haiden was intelligence, charismatic, quick witted, and incredibly nice to look at. His presence had put Draco in a slightly better mood—in fact, he was in a good enough of a mood that when Haiden suggested they dance, Draco could hardly say no.

Draco led the way to the middle of the dance floor, and fitted himself up against Haiden, whose slightly taller frame spooned Draco perfectly. Draco closed his eyes, and allowed the heat of the bodies around him and the beat of the music to take over, and when he felt hot lips tracing the shell of his left ear, he turned around, grasping tightly to the arms surrounding him, and sought out the lips that were sending shivers down his spine.

Passion and lust filled Draco as tongues dueled for supremacy, and hands roamed freely over bodies, wanting and needing to feel more. Pulling away for the briefest moment, Draco simply nodded when a husky voice whispered "let's get out of here."

Draco hardly noticed the twisting of disapparition, and really wasn't all that concerned where he landed—he trusted the other man to take care of him. All he knew was that he wanted—no, he needed—to feel those lips on his again, he needed to feel hands on bare skin, and the explosion of heat between two bodies.

Draco felt the slight tingle of magic as his clothes slowly disappeared from his body, glad that the other man was apparently just as desperate to continue as he was. Draco walked forward, pushing the other man towards the bed he instinctively knew would be close by, and when the other man fell backwards onto the bedding, Draco let himself be pulled down too.

Rolling over so he was on the bottom, Draco sunk into the mattress and dug his nails into the shoulder blades of the man who was kissing, biting, and sucking his way down Draco's chest, making his way to a far more important piece of anatomy. And when the man reached his prize, Draco's eyes rolled to the back of his head. _Oh god, it has been way too long since we've done this_ Draco thought to himself; out loud, desire and lust permeating every word, he said "I want you now, oh god, I am so ready for you."

And as if on command, Draco felt slight pressure, the briefest moment of pain, and then all-consuming pleasure as the man fully seated himself in Draco. Gasping out his pleasure and his desire for more, Draco made no effort to control his body or his mind as he gave himself over to the fire building inside him. Draco arched up as the fire inside him reached it pinnacle, and he cried out his completion, completely unaware of the man on top of him doing the same, as his orgasm rocked through his body with force that momentarily blinded him.

Breathing heavily, and doing his best to regain control of his body, Draco absent mindedly ran his hands up and down the back of the man collapsed on his chest. Pulling the man up for a drawn out kiss, Draco rolled them over, and once again fitted himself into the man, grasping the hand that was looped around his waist with his own. Draco sighed contently as he felt warm kisses being trailed up his neck.

"God, Dray that was amazing."

Draco's eyes popped open—nobody called him Dray but Harry, and that was definitely not Harry's voice. And all of a sudden, reality hit Draco like the Hogwart's Express—he didn't recognize this bedroom or this bed, it wasn't his or Harry's, and it sure as hell wasn't Harry's arm wrapped tightly around him. _Oh shit._ Draco squeezed his eyes closed again, hoping that this wasn't happening—not now, not to him. But realizing pretty quickly that it was happening, Draco did his best to control the emotions welling up inside, telling himself that to run out now would make him a complete asshole. Instead, Draco told himself to breathe while mentally berating himself for being so stupid and Pansy for thinking she could make him all better.

(XXXXX)

Draco laid there until he was positive the other man had fallen asleep, and then very slowly extricated himself from the man's grasp. Getting up slowly, Draco looked around for his clothes, and locating them near the door, made his way over to retrieve his wand from his pant pocket. Casting a quick cleaning charm on himself, Draco slipped back into his clothes, not bothering to do up his shirt or put his shoes back on. That done, he turned back towards the bed where the man was still, thankfully, asleep.

Pointing his wand at the man, Draco closed his eyes and concentrated before whispering "Obliviate", ensuring the other man would remember meeting him and having drinks with him, but nothing else. In Haiden's mind, Draco will have left the club alone after their third round of drinks. With that done, Draco turned on the spot, apparating himself to his own flat.

Upon arriving in his bedroom, Draco unceremoniously dropped the things he had been carrying, shrugged off his shirt and made his way towards his bathroom. Stepping out of his trousers, Draco turned the shower on hotter than necessary and stepped in, hissing as the water hit his skin. As the steam billowed up around him, Draco gave himself over to the emotion he had been holding in thus far. His shoulder's shaking, Draco sank to his knees, wrapping his arms protectively around himself, and wishing desperately that another set of arms would appear, pull him close and tell him everything was going to be okay. But Draco knew that those arms were mostly likely holding somebody else close tonight, and so, alone in his shower, Draco let himself cry.


	2. Chapter 2: Harry

Author's Note: Same as Ch. 1

(XXXXX)

_We broke up  
yeah, it's tough  
most guys would've been crushed  
Wastin' their time  
Wonderin' where they went wrong  
No way, not me  
Hey, I'm doing just fine  
I'm not afraid of movin' on_

_It's easy going out on a Friday night_  
_Easy every time I see her out_  
_I can smile, live it up_  
_The way a single guy does_  
_But what she, what she don't know_  
_Is how hard it is to make it look so_  
_Easy_

**~from "Easy" by Rascal Flatts ft. Natasha Bedingfield **

**Chapter 2: Harry**

Harry smiled as he looked around at his group of friends. It had been a long time since he had gone out with the gang, actually it had been a long time since he had gone out at all, but right now, there was no place he rather be than with his friends, even if Draco was here too.

Taking a sip of his drink, Harry watched with interest as Neville approached the group, having gone to get another drink, only he didn't return alone. Neville was making easy conversation with a man Harry didn't know, but wouldn't be opposed to meeting based on his outward appearance. Just shorter than Neville, the man was clearly not from England—if Harry had to guess, he would guess Spanish. Turns out he wasn't too far off.

"Hey everybody" Neville raised his voice to get the attention of his friends in the general area, "this is Miguel. He was one of my guides when I was studying in Brazil. He's also a herbologist and he is here doing some research work."

There was a general round of "hey", "welcome" and "nice to meet you" from those gathered around. Hermione, of course, walked up and immediate began questioning the man about his work—her love of knowledge not having waned a bit since Hogwarts. Harry watched the whole thing with mild interest, and he couldn't help but notice that Miguel kept glancing his way, as if hoping to catch Harry's eye.

Draining the rest of his drink, Harry walked around the table he was leaning on and made his way towards the man, deciding it was time to rescue him from Hermione before she talked the man's ear off.

"Hey Hermione, you planning on asking him questions all night?" Grinning at Hermione as she glared up at him, Harry turned and extended his hand to Miguel, "Sorry about her, she likes to talk. I'm Har…"

"I know exactly who you are Mr. Potter" Miguel smiled, and grasped Harry's hand with both of his. "It's an honour to meet you; Neville told me so much about you."

"Call me Harry, please." Harry smiled in return, "so tell me, what would a herbologist from Brazil being doing in England in the middle of winter?"

Miguel chucked, "I actually split my time between Brazil and Portugal for work purposes. My mother lives here in London, so whenever I come to Europe, she insists I come and visit. I could never do research here—far too cold or rainy for my taste."

Smiling, Harry invited him back to a table, the two carrying on easy conversation the entire time. And when Miguel got up to get them more drinks, Harry took the opportunity the flag down Neville and ask about for some more details about his foreign friend.

"Actually Harry, I was going to come and talk to you about him. It's obvious that you are getting along well, but just be careful where Miguel is concerned."

"What do you mean 'be careful'?" Harry's tone of voice implying that he was an Auror, he could take care of himself.

Knowing what his friend was most likely thinking, Neville quickly added, "I know you are very capable Harry, but Miguel, while being brilliant, likes to live a fast past life—in all areas of his life." Still sensing confusion from Harry, Neville continued, "Look, I haven't heard from Miguel in a number of years but the last time I met up with him, the combination of alcohol and other substances he consumed should have been lethal."

The two friends lapsed into silence, as Harry studied the man making his way back to their table with fresh drinks in hand. Turning his head, he looking at Neville, his eyes almost pleading for direction, but Neville didn't want to intervene.

"I'm not going to tell you what to do Harry, you got to figure this one out on your own mate, but just so you're aware, and I don't know if this is still the case, the last I heard from Miguel, he had a fiancé." With that, Neville turned and walked away leaving Harry to decide what to do.

What Harry decided to do, however, isn't what ended up happening. Looking back on the incident, Harry would argue it was the man's smile and his accent—both were just to irresistible to say no to. So after a second round of drinks, Harry made the rather impulse decision to ask the man to dance, and let Miguel lead him out onto the floor.

(XXXXX)

Out on the dance floor, Harry knew the minute Draco's eyes settled on him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he shivered. Draco's eyes had always had that effect on him. His dance partner apparently misinterpreted his shiver, as he purred "you like that do you?" in Harry's ear as he continued to grind up against Harry in time to the music.

_Not really_ Harry thought to himself, but it sure felt nice to be desired by someone so Harry didn't say anything. Despite Neville's earlier warnings, and Harry's decision to keep things cordial between them, he couldn't bring himself to tell Miguel to stop, so he simply closed his eyes and tried to lose himself in the music and forget the fact that Draco, the man he wanted back so badly, was less than a hundred feet away and was watching him grind a total stranger. But instead of forgetting about Draco, dancing with Miguel just made Harry want Draco more—Draco knew him, his body, what he liked and didn't like, and while what Miguel was doing felt pretty damn good, it would be heck of a lot better with Draco.

Harry so effectively lost himself in thoughts about Draco that when his dance partner turned around and started placing kisses up Harry's throat, Harry jumped a little in surprise.

Miguel, once again misinterpreting Harry's reaction, purred in Harry's ear "Ticklish, eh Harry?" and promptly went back to sucking Harry's neck. Harry, on his part, just made a non-committal grunt, not really sure what else to do or say. He hadn't been so close to another man since his breakup with Draco, and it was seriously throwing him for a loop—it felt so wrong, like he was betraying Draco, but it felt so good at the same time. Just as Harry was getting ready to push the man away for some space, Miguel found his weakness—the soft spot behind his ear—and began sucking on the place with such fervor that all thoughts were pushed from Harry's brain, and his mind and body focused solely on the present.

Pulling his partner up for a sizzling kiss, Harry melted under the heat of the lips against his, and when he felt a tongue probing rather impatiently at his lips, he gladly granted it access, adding to the pleasure he was already feeling. Wrapped in Miguel's arms, Harry lost all sense of time as their bodies naturally moved together in an elaborate cycle of snogging and grinding.

When Miguel grabbed Harry's hand and led him towards a back booth, Harry let him. And arriving at set booth, Harry just barely noticed Draco looking at him from the bar where he sat with Hermione. An auror to the bone, Harry made note to ask Hermione about it later, but any further speculations and observations were wiped clean and Miguel pulled Harry down into his lap, and went back to exploring the depths of Harry's mouth.

It didn't take long for Miguel to suggest they move elsewhere, and once again Harry's willpower was overridden by the red-hot bloody pumping through his veins and fueling his passion. Since the other man didn't know his way around the club, it was Harry who took charge this time, heading towards the back down and the alleyway which was a popular disapparition spot. However, when they arrived in the alley, he found himself being pushed up against the brick exterior of the club, Miguel even more aggressive now that they were outside.

Neville's warning flooding to mind, Harry tried to push the shorter man away but Miguel wasn't going to be easily moved. Moving his hands under Harry's t-shirt, Miguel ran his hands over Harry's abs as he went back to Harry's weak spot, murmuring in Harry's ear all the things he wanted to do to Harry and it was a _very _creative list. Apparently intending to start his on his list immediately, Miguel reached for Harry belt, but Harry grabbed his wrists before he could get anywhere.

Peering up at Harry, the other man pouted. "Ah, come on babe, I know you want it." And as if to prove his point, he moved one hand to cup Harry's erection.

Throwing his head back at the added pressure, Harry let out a muffled groan, before looking back at the other man and shaking his head firmly—it wasn't going to happen.

Ignoring Harry's protests, the shorter man pressed forward and dropped to his knees, nuzzling his face into Harry's hip. "Please Harry? I can feel how ready you are for me. No one will ever know. I'm heading back to Portugal tomorrow to join my family, you will never see me again. Promise."

Looking down at the other man, Harry noticed for the first time a chain he wore around his neck. Reaching down, Harry caught hold of the chain and pulled up on it, revealing a gold ring dangling from the end of it.

"You bastard", Harry all but snarled at the other man, and bring his knee up, he drove it into the man's shoulder, knocking him backwards on the asphalt. Stepping gingerly over the man, Harry made his way back towards the club, completely ignoring the other man's protests.

"Please babe, come back. I didn't mean anything by it—it was just harmless fun. Please come back."

Harry saw red—cheating, in his book, could never be considered harmless fun. Turning around, he strode purposefully back to where the man was still kneeling on the ground, looking pathetic. "First, and let's get this straight—cheating in no way is harmless or fun. I have half a mind to contact this spouse of yours and tell him what an absolute asshole you are to take something like this so lightly. Second, I am no, will never be, and never was your baby, and if you call me babe on more time, I swear to god I will make you pay dearly for it. And third—stay the hell away from me, Neville, and all of my friends."

Seeing that the other man knew he wasn't joking, Harry returned to the club and made his way back to where a few of his friends were still gathered. Pointedly ignoring their questions, Harry just stood there, his arms crossed in front of him defensively, mentally cursing himself for being such a bloody moron.

Harry was pulled from his thoughts as an uncharacteristic silence fell of over his group of friends. Looking up, it didn't take Harry long to see what they were all staring at. In the middle of the dance floor, Draco and an incredibly good looking man had totally given up on dancing and were giving a very elaborate display of public affection. Watching the couple, and knowing Draco's physical tells, Harry wasn't surprised when the couple disapparated on the spot. _Great, _Harry though, _so I'm not getting laid, and the man I still love just left with a gorgeous man._ Deciding to call it a night before it got any worse, Harry headed back towards the ally, desperately hoping it was empty.

But alas, Harry's luck just wasn't that good. Pushing past Miguel and his new friend, Harry whispered a jinx in Miguel's direction before he disaparated. At least the bastard wouldn't be getting laid tonight either, Harry thought darkly as he knocked on the door in front of him.

(XXXXX)

Taking one look at her friend, Hermione knew Harry wasn't having a good night. Motioning for Harry to come in, Hermione called for Ron to put the kettle on, knowing that his was going to be a late night. Harry, knowing this house as well as he knew his own, made his way into the lounge and took a seat on one of the couches, and while he waited for Ron and Hermione to join him.

Sitting in the silence, Harry thought over the emotion roller coaster the night had turned out to be. Contentment from being with his friends turned into lust and desire for a complete stranger, which was replaced by anger and self-deprecation, which finally subsided to leave a deep rooted despaired. Despair over his inability to choose his own life, make his own decisions, to be with who he loved.

Accepting a cup of tea from Ron and he and Hermione sat down, Harry didn't say anything but waited for one of them to ask the first question. It was Ron who spoke first, his voice gentle—a tone he generally reserved for victim interviews or hospital visits.

"What happened to Miguel Harry?"

Harry's eyes flashed with anger as he said in a furious voice, "He was a fucking asshole, and if he comes anywhere near me, or either of you, in the future, he will regret that decision until the day he dies." Harry's tone left Ron and Hermione with no desire to press further and so silence again filled the room.

It was Hermione who broke her silence next. "I spoke with Draco tonight."

"I know, I saw you." Harry swallowed hard, "and let me guess—he is doing brilliantly." _Probably all set to announce his impending engagement_ Harry added mentally.

"No he's not." The icy tone in Hermione's voice caught Harry off guard. "He's hurting Harry."

Harry laughed, he couldn't help himself, but it was a cold laugh born more out of pain than humor. "Hermione, the only parts of him that are going to be hurting are those parts of his anatomy he needs to have sex." Taking in the confused expressions of his friends, Harry got the distinct impression he was missing something. "Oh come on, you talked to Draco and he didn't brag about his new beau to you? I find that hard to believe."

"He doesn't have a new boyfriend mate." Ron was looking at Harry with a growing look of pity.

"Yes he does. I saw them—they disapparated directly off the dance floor where, let me tell you, they weren't doing much dancing." Now it was Harry's turn to look at his friends in confusion.

"No he doesn't." Ron countered, "I ran in Parkinson in the club. She told me Draco was in a right bad place and that she was going to fix him up with one of her friends later tonight. That must be who you saw with Draco."

"But, I thought…but, he was…" Harry did know what he was trying to say—there were so many thoughts swirling around his head he couldn't keep them straight. Finally he blurted out "But Draco doesn't have one night stands, ever."

"He might." Hermione moved to sit next to Harry. "He misses you Harry—it was pretty obvious while I was talking to him. He might have gone home with that man tonight hoping to escape for bit." Reaching out to take Harry's hand, she added "You should talk to him."

"I can't Hermione," Harry pulled his hand away from hers, the despair inside causing him to last out angrily. Harry continued, cutting off both Ron and Hermione's attempts to speak. "You know why I can't talk to him, why I can't get back together with him."

Getting up and pacing around the room, Harry continued, "you read some of those letters the Auror Department intercepted, letters promising to cause him pain for corrupting me. And I'm sure you both remember the crazy people now locked away who tried to kill him because he wasn't good enough for the 'Chosen One'. God, how could I be in a relationship with him knowing that our relationship was putting him in danger?"

Even Hermione with all of her knowledge didn't have an answer for Harry, and as he continued to pace around the room, the anger he was feeling mere moments ago gave way to despair once more as Harry contemplated the unfairness of life. Despair was slowly overcome by pain as hot tears built up behind Harry's glasses, obsecuring Harry's vision and threatening to fall with the blink of an eye.

Stopping in front of the mantel, Harry looked up and saw a picture from his birthday last year. Draco, with an arm around his waist, was giving him a kiss on the cheek as he held out his wrist, proudly displaying the bracelet that was Draco's present to him. Reaching into his pocket, Harry pulled the bracelet out, and brought it to his lips, his shoulders shaking as tears fell down his face.

"Oh Harry," Hermione breathed as she got up and rushed to her friend's side. Wrapping an arm around his waist, Hermione took his weight, and slowly lowered them to the floor, where she pulled Harry close as he continued hold the bracelet tightly to his lips. Ron came up behind the pair, and putting an arm across each of their shoulders acted as the anchor that held the three together for the time being.

Harry cried until he had no more tears left, and when he couldn't cry any longer, he just sat there, knowing that for the time being he was safe. That being here with his friends to support him was the easy part and that in the morning when he had to get up and face the realities of another day without the man he loved, and that sure as hell wasn't going to be easy.

(XXXXX)

There, that's it! Let me know what you all think.


End file.
